Take what i want (and call it mine)
by awkwardacity
Summary: Scott doesn't understand that, sometimes, people break, and no amount of effort can glue them back together. Stiles has been broken for a long time. [Part 1 of 'darker hearts and shattered minds' [Stallison Serial Killers] AU] 7/15 - Countdown to Season Six


The thing Scott doesn't understand is that people _break_.

He's a true alpha - of course he doesn't understand. His world is governed by a simple set of rules: black and white, right and wrong, good and evil.

He doesn't understand that, sometimes, people shatter, and no amount of effort can glue them back in place, because the pieces just don't fit together any more. They are a mass of sharp edges, cutting themselves into smaller and smaller pieces with every move they make.

For people like that, the world can never be as naively simple and rose-tinted as Scott imagines it to be.

Stiles has been broken for a long time. It wasn't the nogitsune that broke him, no matter what he lets everyone else believe. He puts on a good face to mask his fractures, but he's been this way at least since his mother's death.

He's dealt with his broken edges by hiding them behind a vale people have come to know as Stiles Stilinski - all wit and sarcasm and flailing limbs and an obsession with Lydia Martin - but they're still there, digging deeper inside him. The nogitsune simply peeled back the mask and sharpened those edges into knives.

Everyone tiptoed around him for a long time after that, like he was a fragile glass statue, and any provocation could tip him over the edge, smash him into oblivion - not knowing he's been like that all this time. It infuriated him to no end, but he played the damaged victim none the less. He cares for his friends, he really does- but he knows they wouldn't care for him if they really knew him.

The only one who refused to tiptoe is Allison Argent, and he knows it's because she never even looked at the mask he used to wear. She sees the jagged edges, the open wounds and brokenness within, because it's what she sees every time she looks in the mirror.

He doesn't know how long she's been broken. In truth, her mask fooled even him to begin with. It was shockingly well made. He fell for the shy, naive new-girl act just like the rest of them. It took Kate's appearance for him to see the real Allison hidden underneath.

He doesn't know what could have broken her, either. It makes him wonder if maybe she knew about her family's secrets before she came to Beacon Hills.

No one ever treated Allison as broken. Sure, an oni stabbed her, and Scott followed her like a lost puppy, checking up on her every five seconds, for the first few months after it happened. But soon it was forgotten, because Allison's mask slipped right back into place, whilst Stiles' didn't quite seem to fit any more.

But then there were other things to worry about; deadpools, and Kate returning, and Peter's psychotic plans to steal Scott's power back, and now Stiles' mask has learned to cover his face again, and everyone's forgotten what the nogitsune did. What he did.

Except Allison, of course. The two of them never really acknowledge each other out loud. They're friends because their friends are friends, as far as anyone who knows them will say. But occasionally Stiles will catch Allison studying his broken edges, and he'll study hers in return; she'll give him a smirk, he'll give her a grin which looks far too similar to the nogitsune's, and they'll walk in different directions.

The night after they all return from Mexico, he walks into his room expecting to find Malia as per usual; instead he finds Allison. She's lounging on his bed, twirling her ring daggers in between her fingers.

"I killed my aunt yesterday," she says, not looking up from the spinning blades in her hands.

"And?" he asks, tapping his fingers on his desk in something akin to anxiety. He stands and watches her, unmoving.

"And I liked it." She looks up, a smirk lighting her features.

"And why are you telling me?"

"I'm testing your reactions, _Stiles_." She's rolling her eyes. "I want to know what you think."

"You want to know if I'm going to turn tail and tell Scott."

"Maybe," she shrugs.

He's puzzled by the girl before him. She's an enigma, and he never quite knows what to expect from her. Every time he thinks he's finally worked her out, she does something that surprises him all over again. He thinks, sometimes, that the nogitsune should have possessed her instead of him - she already seems to get off on chaos.

The slience stretches as they regard each other.

"I killed my mom," he says eventually, moving from the doorway to sit beside her on the bed.

There's silence from the huntress; he turns to look at her to see her staring at him, startled eyes wide open. He's finally surprised her. He returns her smirk from earlier. "What? Fox got your tongue?"

Allison lunges at him so suddenly he barely has time to register the movement until she's straddling him, knife pressed against his throat just hard enough to sting. He looks at her expectantly, watching her. Her eyes are wide and her pupils blown. Her lips are slightly parted, and for a moment he has the urge to throw caution to the wind and kiss her- but he doesn't. The ball is in her court, not his.

"I think I might have underestimated you, Stilinski," she says, licking her lips. "See you around."

With that she crawls off him and climbs back out through the window, disappearing from view in less than a second.

He's expecting that to be that: for the two of them to go back to observing each other from afar, the only thing between them their shared secrets.

That's not what happens.

He finds a note the next day, slipped into his econ textbook, in Allison's excessively cursive handwriting: _Meet me in the gym after school_.

He finds it at lunch, whilst putting his textbooks back in his locker, and it's all he can think about for the rest of the day. Malia storms away to complain to Lydia when he mishears her questions three times in a row. He can't find it in himself to care too much.

After school, he tells Scott he's cooking dinner for his dad and can't hang out tonight - which, of course, the alpha believes. He's not sure why he lies, exactly - it just rolls off his tongue naturally, so it's what he goes with. He learned long ago how to keep his heart steady.

Why does Allison even want to meet him in the gym anyway? After last night it could be anything.

The moment he steps foot in the gym, something crashes into him, throwing him violently against the wall. His head flies back into the wall, leaving him disorientated as he tries to figure out what's going on.

Allison appears in front of him, a fierce look of concentration on her face, her eyes alight.

"Allison, what the fuck-"

"Fight back, Stilinski."

It's a challenge. Her eyebrows are raised as she watches his face; her elbow is pressed into his throat, cutting off his air supply, as he evaluates his options with a careful precision.

"Come on-"

He takes his chance, lunging at her, and in a moment the tables are turned, and Allison is the one pressed against the wall, his fingers easily pinning her hands above her head. She looks stunned for a moment - then all of a sudden she's laughing, shocked and breathless.

He raises an eyebrow at her in return.

Her fist comes out of nowhere, and he only just manages to duck out of the way, loosing his grip on her in the process. She brings her knee up towards his groin - he darts away, before surging back towards her with a clenched fist.

It takes him a few exchanges of blows to realise that Allison isn't holding back. When they started he's sure she was trying to test him - but now it's more than that. They're both out of breath, moving and reacting with a speed Stiles didn't know he had. Allison's eyes are intense and focused, her movements slick and well trained.

But she fights by the book, and whilst she's fast, she's only human, and Stiles - Stiles doesn't know exactly _what_ he is, but it definitely isn't quite that.

In a few easy maneuvers, Stiles has Allison on her back. His hands press against her throat, squeezing into the flesh so hard he knows it'll leave bruises.

Despite everything, she's _still_ smirking at him, and it's irritating him so much that for a moment he entertains the idea of squeezing harder. It's not like anyone could pin the murder on him - he's careful, after all this time.

Instead, he lunges forwards and kisses her. It's not romantic in any sense, but driven by so many other things. Lust, and anger, and this strange secret they share between them that Stiles doesn't quite understand. It's a struggle for power - one which neither of them is willing to lose.

Allison bites down on Stiles' lip, the metallic taste spilling into both their mouths, but neither draws away. They push against each others' bruising lips harder, as if they could consume each other.

Stiles pulls away, and Allison's lips follow him for a moment before pulling back, too. Her eyes open wide in confusion as he stands up.

He offers her a smirk. "See you around, princess."

* * *

 **My first attempt at anything with even the remotest amount of sexual subplot, and darker than my usual stuff...**

 **Any mistake please let me know! And please review, I love to know what you thought.**

 **Come hang with/talk with/prompt me on tumblr: edelwoodsouls - I'm always free to chat :)**


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